


i'll bring you flowers in the pouring rain

by censored



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Aromantic Harry Osborn, Bisexual Peter Parker, Fluff, Gay Harley Keener, Getting Together, HoH Harley Keener, Lesbian Gwen Stacy, Multi, Non-Binary Abbie Keener, Non-Binary Betty Brant, Queer Michelle Jones, Tattoo Artist Peter Parker, florist harley keener
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25268941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/censored/pseuds/censored
Summary: Peter Parker knew that he didn’t live up to the expectations of people.Harley Keener knew that he didn’t live up to the expectations of people.In which: Peter is a tattoo artist and Harley is a florist. Somehow, luck is on their side.
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Harry Osborn & Peter Parker & Gwen Stacy
Comments: 26
Kudos: 195
Collections: Parkner Florist/Tattoo Artist Fics





	i'll bring you flowers in the pouring rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProsperDemeter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProsperDemeter/gifts).



> huge thank you to prosperdemeter for being amazing and listening to my rambles and ideas for this fic <3
> 
> this is for the parkner discord server's event for florist/tattoo artist prompt!!!

Peter Parker knew that he didn’t live up to the expectations of people. They looked at him and  _ assumed _ . They assumed, but they rarely ever knew the truth. 

They looked at Peter and assumed that he was in a career that matched his appearance. He looked nerdy, so maybe he worked at the library or was a scientist new in his field. He was young, so people assumed he was still in college.

Peter hated assumptions. 

Sure, they were amusing sometimes, but there were only so many ways Peter could tell people what he actually did. And everyone always gave the same reaction. 

It got boring. Fast.

See, Peter was a tattoo artist. He had been dabbling in art all his life, but really focused on it in his last couple years of high school. University was too expensive and Peter didn’t really want to go. So, he found a shop that gave him an apprenticeship straight out of graduating high school. 

Now, three years later, he owned a shop with his best friend. The shop was small, only three artists, but they were well known. A reputation developed from the aesthetic of their shop and the variety of styles from the three of them. 

Harry Lyman. (Having changed his last name the moment he turned eighteen to his late mother’s maiden name.) Peter’s best friend since childhood. He was the reason Peter got into art so early. Emily Lyman, Harry’s mother, had encouraged her son to pursue any hobby he wanted. She was French and an artist, so Harry learned French and took up drawing at a young age. They did everything together, so Peter grabbed the graphite pencil, plopped down onto the floor of Emily’s studio next to Harry, and tried his best. The summer before senior year of high school, Peter and Harry had been laying on the roof of the apartment building, staring up into the night sky, and Peter had said “I don’t want to go to college.” Harry had replied, “Me neither.” And what was a better  _ Fuck you _ to Norman Osborn than to decide to become tattoo apprentices at different shops in New York City before eventually co-owning their own shop together?

Gwen Stacy. In high school, she had sat down at Peter and Harry’s table on the first day of the new school year, spun around and glared at the dude who had followed her to the table. “Sorry, James. In English class, they invited me to sit with them at lunch. Also, I already told you, I’m a lesbian.” From then on, the three had been inseparable. The difference was, she was attending classes and only working at the shop part-time. She worked a long weekend at the shop and the occasional appointment when she had time. Out of the three of them, she looked almost like she worked at a tattoo shop. With her partially shaved head, bleached hair, and an eyebrow ring. 

Peter was prepping the shop for opening when he heard the tiny bell on the door sound.

“I’m just saying,” Gwen’s voice rang out, “that barista was totally checking you out.”

“They were just being nice,” Harry replied, ignoring Gwen’s cough of  _ flirting _ . “Hey, Peter.”

“Har,” Peter smiled, half hugging Harry in his reach for his coffee, “You’re an angel.”

“I know.” Harry would never admit to it, but Peter knew that he purposely stands in front of the drink carrier to force Peter and Gwen to give him hugs to receive their drinks. Gwen seemed to have caught Harry before he reached the door this morning, her iced coffee already in hand. Harry, satisfied with his hug, grabbed his tea from the carrier and took a sip. 

They wouldn’t have their first appointment for another thirty minutes, despite being open, just to make sure they had time to set everything up. 

“Gwen, if I wanted a hookup, I’d just check Tinder,” Harry informed her, organizing his drawer of inks. “Hell, I’d just drop by that bar on 12th. There’s always plenty of people there and they’re usually not looking for a relationship.”

“What about Peter?”

“Peter’s my platonic soulmate,” Harry commented, writing down something on a sticky note. 

Peter’s chest filled with warmth, “Love you, Har Bear.”

“Love you too, Petey Pie.”

“No,” Gwen huffed. “I meant-” The bell of the door cut her off and all three of their heads turned to the front of the building, even though they couldn’t see the door through all the greenery.

“Someone early to their appointment?” Harry asked.

“Maybe.” Peter agreed, standing up from where he had been assembling his tattoo gun, “I’ll check.”

The last thing Peter expected to see when he emerged was a kid standing in the lobby. “Hi,” Peter greeted anyway, despite his confusion. “What can I help you with?”

“Hii,” the kid said, fiddling with a folder in his hands, “Uh, my name is Miles. Miles Morales. I was wondering if you guys took apprentices?”

Peter was abruptly reminded of himself. He had done the same thing as Miles was doing. The kid was probably incredibly nervous.

“Hi Miles, nice to meet you. My name is Peter.” The other half of what Miles had said finally solidified in his mind. “Wait, shit! Harry!” 

Harry appeared a moment later, tea in hand. “Everything okay?”

“This is Miles and he wants to know if we take in apprentices,” Peter grinned at Harry.

“Holy fuck,” Harry whispered, his eyes wide at Peter, then at Miles, at the folder Miles was holding, back to Peter. 

Harry held out his hand for Miles to shake. “Hi, Miles was it?” At Miles’ starstruck nod, he continued. “My name is Harry Lyman. Enchanté.”

Peter noticed Gwen had appeared behind the front counter, drinking her iced coffee idly while watching the conversation.

“You’re interested in an apprenticeship here?”

Miles nodded excitedly. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve been following you guys on Instagram since you opened and I just turned eighteen and you guys are like an inspiration to me. And your shop is just amazing and it’s so welcoming and wow there’s even more plants than I expected. I’m rambling, sorry, so uh, do you want to see my portfolio?”

Harry’s elbow nudged Peter’s side, probably referencing how Peter rambled like that when he was younger. “We’d love to.” Gwen patted the counter in encouragement and agreement.

Miles’ art was  _ phenomenal _ . His style was different from the rest of theirs, but they weren’t bothered by that. The three of them didn’t even need to confer separately from Miles. It took one shared look before Harry welcomed Miles as the shop’s first apprentice. 

“Wait? You’re serious?” 

“About what? You being our apprentice?”

“Yeah, wait, no, about me being the first?”

“Yep,” Gwen nodded. “Now, you wanna come back and I can show you the ropes?” She frowned at her empty coffee cup and dropped it behind the counter into what Peter knew was a tiny trash can.

“No, Gwen. Paperwork first,” Harry scolded her lightheartedly.

Gwen’s drawn-out “ugh” lasted until she slumped down onto her stool at her station.

* * *

Harley Keener knew that he didn’t live up to the expectations of people. Assumptions had been made about him his entire life. He hated them, but they kept him from being beaten up as a kid. New York made assumptions, but nothing like a tiny town in Tennessee did. New York assumed, but they didn’t necessarily care. It was nice.

They looked at Harley and assumed that he probably didn’t go to college and they’d be right. He wore faded band shirts and smelled like motor oil and flowers. It made it a bit more difficult for their assumptions to be completely accurate, but they weren’t harmful. They looked at him and assumed he was from the South and they were right.

Harley didn’t mind the assumptions.

Harley didn’t go to college. He worked in his mother’s flower shop, her pride and joy. She had tried to start one back in Rose Hill, but it didn’t stick. A bit of prodding from Abbie and Harley, Macy Keener decided to move her little family somewhere better. Now, in New York, the cost of living was a bit more expensive. His mama worked at her flower shop and took night classes from a nearby university. Abbie went to a STEM high school in Midtown and helped out in the shop when they had free time.

To help with the bills, he also worked part-time as a mechanic, but he spent most hours at the flower shop. It was calming. He could just hum along to the music and play Minecraft on his laptop between customers. He got to choose the music, as his mama didn’t mind what was playing as long as it was welcoming, and he had multiple playlists for different moods and weather. Although John, the owner of the mechanic shop, knew that Harley was deaf and that his hearing aids didn’t react well to loud noise, the man still kept the music just high enough to give Harley a headache. The ability to choose his own music  _ and _ control the volume was godsent. 

The shop was empty now, after the small rush of businessmen coming in during their lunch break to pick up flowers for a forgotten anniversary. Harley clicked open his and Abbie’s world, deciding to add a wing onto their house.

“You better not be caving without me.” Abbie appeared in front of the counter, leaning over it to see if Harley was betraying them. Satisfied, they leaned back, blond curls bouncing happily on the top of their head. 

“Need me to shave the sides tonight?” Harley asked, nodding towards the side of their head, where the undercut was growing out. 

“Yeah,” Abbie shoved their hands into the pockets of the green overalls they’d worn today, shaking out their hard until the curls fell over their forehead. “Gettin’ a bit long. Anyway, you won’t believe what happened today!”

* * *

When Harry was tattooing or concentrating on anything, he’d poke his tongue out slightly and furrow his eyebrows. Gwen bit her lip. Peter didn’t know what he did, but Miles hadn’t taken long to adapt his own concentration face into a combination of Gwen and Harry’s. 

Earlier this week, Gwen had excitedly burst into the shop brandishing a bag of grapefruits to a terrified and confused Miles. The three of them explained the purpose of this to Miles until Harry’s consulting appointment came in. Miles was intently staring at the grapefruit and the sketch he was tattooing into it. He was biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Peter,” Harry called out, not even looking up from his tablet. His client sat patiently beside him, looking intrigued. “Betty, this is Peter. Peter, this is Betty. They/them.”

“Hi, nice to meet you!” Peter thought they looked about the same age as he was, their eyes matching their denim jacket and a contagious smile.

“I love your pins.” There was one that just said “they/them”, but Peter also spotted a few enamel pins: a cute little blue jar filled with stars, a camera, and a typewriter.

“Oh, thank you!”

“So,” Harry finally looked up from his tablet, “Betty said they’d be down to let me decide on their tattoo.”

Peter loved clients that let the artist create something original for them. He had more tattoos than he could count just from Harry and Gwen. It was a level of trust that made his heart warm and fuzzy. 

“I’m thinking of something related to nature,” Betty explained, gesturing with their hands, “I really like plants, flowers, animals, and stuff like that.”

Harry nodded along, “I was thinking, if this is alright with you Betty, for Peter and I to work together to design your tattoo. Peter’s amazing at plants and flowers, so he’d help me sketch and plan, but I’d do the tattooing. How’s that sound?”

“I’m down.” Peter loved working with Harry on pieces. They’d been doing art together since they were kids, they knew how to play off each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Harry’s specialty was watercolor, whereas Peter loved plants and flowers. Working together on the sketch would save Harry a ton of time.

Betty gaped. “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled at their enthusiasm. “We can figure out which plants and flowers today, then set you up with an appointment.”

“Holy shit, yes. That’d be amazing.” 

Peter grabbed his stool and tablet from his station and sat down next to Harry, opening up a document. “So, Betty, what types of flowers and plants do you like?”

A half-hour later, Harry had a palette of colors to implement into the piece, approved by Betty, and Peter had a list of plants and flowers that they liked and that fit the palette. Harry confirmed a slot for Betty to come in the next week and Betty had asked for what food they wanted for the session. Not just food for Harry, they asked Peter, Gwen, and Miles as well. When Betty left the shop cheerfully, Harry and Peter stared at each other in awe.

“How’d you guys get the best client ever?” Gwen complained, completely sprawled over the bean bag she required in the shop.

“No clue,” Harry responded, grabbing his fidget cube to mess with. Peter knew he was thinking about what he wanted to sketch before he started. 

“Miles,” Peter spun in his chair towards their apprentice, who had finished tattooing his grapefruit and was staring at the three of them. It wasn’t the severe amount of awe he used to look at them with, now that Miles was used to them. They’d adopted him into their little family effortlessly. “They read the  _ How to be the Perfect Tattoo Client _ handbook that doesn’t exist legitimately, and memorized it.”

Miles blinked in time with Harry’s click on his fidget cube. “Okay?”

With a push off the floor, Peter rolled closer to Miles and looked at the grapefruit. “Looks good!”

Miles’ grin was like the sun. 

“We should get a bird.”

“Gwen, no,” Harry shut her down instantly. “Peter, I’ve got an appointment in ten, but could you run to a flower shop and grab a couple crocus flowers? And flax if we don’t already have it.”

Peter would ask why Harry doesn’t just google them, but he knew Harry and Harry hated going down the random search rabbit hole of trying to find the perfect image for his reference when he could just position the flower himself. Plus, he liked supporting local, small businesses. 

“Sure,” Peter nodded, grabbing his jean jacket. It had a few patches: a bisexual flag, one of a spider, and a mint leaf because, despite Peter’s allergy to it, it’s his favorite plant. He was the reason there were multiple mint plants around the shop. “I’ve got flax by the front window, it’s in the light blue pot.”

“Perfect, thanks,” Harry was steadily ignoring Gwen’s upside down pouts. 

“Miles, what drink do you want?”

“Huh?”

“I’m grabbing us drinks on my way back,” Peter explained, patting his pocket to make sure he had his wallet, “Harry gets Earl Grey lavender tea, Gwen gets an iced mocha with caramel, I get a white raspberry mocha, and I can grab you whatever you want.” Afternoon coffee/tea runs weren’t incredibly common, but Peter still had all of their preferred order memorized. They were slightly different from their morning orders, which Peter also memorized even though Harry was the one to order them. Gwen got an iced coffee, Harry got a London Fog, and Peter got a mocha, hot, with an extra shot of espresso. 

“Oh, I, uh, don’t drink coffee or tea. Do they have smoothies?”

“The best,” Gwen nodded. Which, due to her odd position, was just her throwing her head back into the bean bag. 

“Strawberry banana then, please and thank you.”

“A wise choice!” Gwen announced, throwing the grapefruit she had been tossing towards Miles, who caught it with a fumble. “Parker! Find me a girlfriend while you’re out there. I’m lonely.”

“Are we not enough for you, Stacy?”

“You wanna go on a date, Lyman?”

Peter could hear the frown in Harry’s voice. “Gwen, you’re a lesbian. Also, I don’t date people, you know this.”

“ _ Exactly _ .”

* * *

Keen on Breaking the Norms

**Mama:** casserole for dinner tonight? 

**Mama:** I’m at the shop, any last minute requests?

**Abs:** yes to casserole

**Abs:** we need more yeast

**Abs:** im making more bread this weekend

**Abs:** also cinnamon!! i want to make cinnamon rolls

**Harley:** hell yes casserole

**Harley:** that vegan cheese i like? If possible?

**Mama:** sure baby 

**Harley:** <3 thank you mama

**Abs:** love you mama!!

A flash of light drew Harley’s attention from his phone to the door and in walked one of the cutest guys Harley had ever seen. Caramel colored curls reflected the light and Harley saw a splash of color on the skin not quite covered by the rolled-up sleeve of his denim jacket. Conveniently, the customer had a pin on his jacket that said  _ he/him _ so Harley didn’t feel immediately terrible about assuming his pronouns. He also happily noticed a bisexual flag patch sewn into the sleeve. “Hi, how can I help you?”

Chocolate brown eyes glanced towards him, lingering just long enough for Harley to feel a bit flushed.

“I’m looking for crocus?” the stranger asked, grabbing his phone from his back pocket and quickly tapping at it, “Yeah, crocus flowers. Sorry, I’m not looking for a bouquet or anything, it’s for a reference.”

“Ah,” Harley got up and walked out from behind the counter. “You’re not the only artist that comes by for references.” MJ, one of his best friends, often stopped by to sketch out flowers and hang out with him when their schedules didn’t quite line up to hang out outside of work.

Finding crocus had been easy enough. Turning and presenting it to the stranger like a fool was not. Luckily, said stranger laughed with an adorable smile and gently took the flowers from Harley’s hand. “Why, thank you.”

“You know,” the stranger said as Harley inputted the price into the system and took the cash from the stranger’s hand, “these almost match your eyes.”

Harley’s face flushed with warmth, but before he could respond, a frazzled looking man threw the door open. “I forgot our anniversary! He’s gonna hate me!”

He unintentionally flinched at the loud voice, briefly touching his ear. Harley shot the cute stranger an apologetic smile as he made his way towards the wide-eyed customer. “Well, I can help with that. How long have y’all been together?”

The cute stranger left the shop about twenty minutes into the man’s rambling. Harley barely spotted his wave as he collected a variety of roses. With a small frown, he realized he hadn’t gotten a name or a number.

* * *

OG OT3

**gwendolyn:** any luck finding me a cute girl 

**gwendolyn:** perhaps the florist??

**peter pan:** tell harry i got references

**gwendolyn:** cute girl??

**peter pan:** cute b o y

**gwendolyn:** fuck

**gwendolyn:** is the cute girl working at beans today

**peter pan:** which one

**gwendolyn:** red head

**peter pan:** yeah

**gwendolyn:** give her my number lmao

**peter pan:** no

**gwendolyn:** >:0

**har bear:** if you haven’t ordered, make mine a large please

**peter pan:** you got it <3

**gwendolyn:** oh i see how it is

**gwendolyn:** you play favorites

**peter pan:** are you saying harry  _ isnt  _ your favorite

**gwendolyn:** he’s my favorite bc he’d give the cute barista my number

**har bear:** we both know i would not 

**gwendolyn:** there is no love in this chilis tonight

* * *

Peter used to be annoyed with the sound of a tattoo gun buzzing for hours on end. Now, he barely noticed it. Gwen admitted that she couldn’t quite block it out, but didn’t mind the noise as much as she used to. Harry never minded the noise, he’d gotten used to blocking out sounds he didn’t want to hear after his mother died.

The shop was always busier on the weekends and today was no exception. Gwen and Miles were both in, as they usually were on Saturdays since there was no class to attend. Miles was observing and working on his own sketches, trying to stay out of their way. Though, every once in a while, one of them would pause and call Miles over to explain something or have him watch for a bit. Gwen was working on her largest piece of the day, something on the back of a guy’s calf. Peter was halfway through doing the linework for a fern up a girl’s ribs. Last time Peter looked up, Betty had been contently using their free hand to scroll through their phone and talk to Harry idly. 

When Betty had first arrived, Peter had spotted their blond hair and thought of the boy from the flower shop. He hadn’t gotten his name, or more regrettably, his number, but blond curls and eyes the color of crocus flowers were still stuck in his head. Peter knew he could just go back to the flower shop and hope he was there, or even just leave his information with whoever was working. But timing wasn’t his friend. It must be Spring Break for at least  _ one _ of the universities nearby because all three of them were completely booked every day the week. The equivalent of a rush had just started today, when Harry had opened their shared calendar schedule and had announced: “Holy shit. I need more tea.”

And so, Miles was sent to the coffee shop to grab them all their preferred drinks to last the day. All in the largest size they served. Miles assured them that he was fine with observing and doing food runs all day, but Betty was an angel and brought them all food around their dinner time appointment. 

Peter’s only breaks from tattooing were between appointments, where he would take pictures of any tattoos they’d completed for their Instagram. By around eight, Gwen and Peter were finishing up their last clients and soon, only Betty was left. They were still sitting like a champ, not taking any breaks. Harry was scrunched over in his chair, putting the last details in. 

Peter’s hand was going to be dead by the end of this week if every day is as packed with clients as today was. And from the looks of it, Harry was going to need a heat pack for his neck. 

He wondered if the florist boy had any tattoos. Peter could already envision the perfect tattoo for him- a rose on his forearm. Black ink with shading, no color. It’d be perfect. Once his schedule calmed down, Peter would go back to that flower shop and give the guy his number. 

* * *

“Why are you all mopey?”

Harley turned to glare at Abbie. “I’m not mopey.”

“He says, mopily,” Abbie snarked back. “Seriously, what’s up?”

Abbie would definitely judge him, but they’d judge him less than MJ and Betty would. If he told Abbie now, he’d be less likely to spill about the boy to his best friends tonight when they went out to dinner. “A lost opportunity, I guess,” he started, thinking about how soft those curls looked. “A cute boy came into the shop last week, looking to get a flower for a reference.”

With a roll of their eyes, they gestured for him to continue. 

“He had a bi flag patch on his jacket, so it’s not a lost cause,” Harley defended. “I didn’t get his name or number or anything and he hasn’t been back.”

“Ah,” they nodded, hopping up to sit on the counter, “so, you’re fucked.”

Harley smacked his head against the wood and Abbie patted his back. 

“What’s up with him?” Harley heard MJ’s voice. With his head down, he didn’t notice that the door had opened to the shop. He didn’t bother responding, letting Abbie expose the reasons for his wallowing. “Ah,” MJ said once Abbie concluded, “yeah, you’re fucked.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Harley finally lifted his head to see her. The three of them were planning to just go grab pizza and catch up a bit, so she was dressed casually. “Betty said they’d meet us there.”

“Sounds good.” Harley hopped up, shoving his phone and wallet into his pockets. “I’m starving, Abs, you want me to bring you back anything?”

Their mama had informed them that they were on their own for a meal tonight, she had a test she needed to cram for. 

“Naw,” Abbie’s docs tapped the side of the counter. “After I close up the shop I’m gonna make enchiladas.”

“Have fun, text me if you need anything, mama’s not gonna answer her phone.”

“Got it.”

* * *

Betty arrived a minute after MJ and Harley sat down.

“We ordered for you,” MJ informed them, “Your usual.”

“You’re amazing,” they said, sliding into the booth next to MJ. Harley felt as if it had been forever since the three of them had time to do something like this. MJ and Betty were busy with classes and part-time jobs, whereas Harley worked two jobs, leaving free time exceptionally rare. Their blond hair was still cropped to fall by their chin, their smile contagious, and style perfect. Harley was jealous of their denim jacket, his thoughts drifting to a wrist covered in color exposed from a similar denim jacket. The reference boy. “Ugh, it’s always so hot inside.” Betty shrugged off said denim jacket, exposing a pale arm that was full of color.

“Woah!” Harley leaned forward, trying to get a closer look. “That’s new.”

“I just got it last weekend,” Betty gushed, holding out their arm so MJ and Harley could see the tattoo better. “You know that tattoo shop on 30th? The one with the pride flag in the window and a ton of plants?”

Harley did know, he’d walked past it a few times and had to stop himself, and Abbie, on more than one occasion from going inside. They rarely did walk-ins, so Harley had been putting off pursuing an appointment. Betty’s tattoo was  _ gorgeous _ , the color blended expertly, in a way Harley hadn’t seen before. Back in Tennessee, all the tattoos he saw were traditional, blocks of color if any. Betty’s tattoo was all seamless color transitions and perfect line art of a crocus flower surrounded by flax. 

Crocus flower.

Harley double-checked. Yeah, that was a crocus. A crocus that was almost the color of his eyes. 

“Holy shit.” Harley slumped back into his seat, his eyes locked on that damn crocus flower.

“I know, right? It’s amazing. The artist was so nice! He thanked me profusely, just because I brought them all food. Apparently, with spring break this week, they were swamped.”

MJ complimented it as well, discussing some of the techniques that the artist had implemented into the piece, from the black ink beneath the watercolor to the color composition.

“MJ,” Harley said when she finished. “Remember my wallowing?”

“How could I forget?” she deadpanned, facing him with an unimpressed look on her face.

“Reference boy needed a crocus. That’s a crocus.”

“Wait,” Betty butted in, “Fill me in, what?”

“Like two weeks ago, a boy came into the shop, looking for a reference. He told me the name of the flower, a crocus,” Harley couldn’t believe this. There was no way. “He was super cute, but a customer interrupted before I got his name or number.”

“And you think my tattoo artist is the same guy who came into the shop?”

When Betty said it aloud, Harley thought it was more ridiculous. New York City was incredibly populated. There were a ton of tattoo shops, and who was to say that the boy was a tattoo artist? He didn’t look like one, with his pastel t-shirt under a denim jacket and Doc Martens. However, Harley knew a thing or two about assumptions. His own band t-shirts and hoodies and sneakers didn’t quite show that he was a florist most of the time. The boy could have been a student, doing art for a class or as a hobby. He could have been an artist for a local gallery. But, what were the odds of him being Betty’s tattoo artist?

“What did your artist look like?” Harley was almost afraid to ask, but he needed to know. And it looked as if he wasn’t going to ask, MJ was. 

“He was really pretty,” Betty said, thinking back. “Dirty blond hair, I think it’d be called, it was fluffy. His eyes were blue and his name is Harry. Complete sweetheart, let me tell you.”

Reference boy had been brunet with curls and chocolate brown eyes. Harley frowned a bit, disappointed. “Not him.”

“That sucks,” MJ comforted him. “Betty, was he single?”

“Single and aromantic,” Betty informed her. “He had a flag on his station. All the artists did, there were three of them and an apprentice.”

“Aro, but not ace?”

“Didn’t see an ace flag on his station, so probably not.”

“Nice,” MJ nodded. “Well, I might stop by there for an appointment sooner than later.”

“Wait,” Harley realized something. Maybe the reference boy had gotten the reference for Betty’s artist. “Can you describe the other artists?”

Betty looked at him strangely, before understanding passed over their face. “Yeah, so there were three artists and an apprentice. Miles, the apprentice, is a kid, barely eighteen, so I really hope it wasn’t him you saw. Uh, Gwen, lesbian,” they nodded to MJ who looked thoughtful, “blonde female, so not her. And Peter, he worked with Harry on my piece. He has curly brown hair-”

Harley’s eyes widened.

“-and brown eyes, super sweet too. He had a bisexual flag on his station and was wearing Doc Martens when I was there.”

“That’s him,” Harley breathed out, ignoring the grins Betty and MJ shot at each other. They were definitely going to plan something, but Harley was too focused on the fact that the reference boy was probably a tattoo artist named Peter. 

* * *

the friendship ship

**mj:** free tonight?

**bet:** surprisingly, yes

**bet:** just finishing up my article and im free

**harls:** i get off at 5

**mj:** perfect 

**mj:** we’re gonna drop by that tattoo shop

**harls:** wait mj what

**bet:** they ‘close’ at 7 i believe 

**mj:** thats fine

**harls:** _ wait mj what _

**mj:** dont you want to get the guys number?

**harls:** yeah

**harls:** but 

**harls:** okay yeah i’d have to go to the shop at some point

**mj:** we can use the excuse that betty wanted to show the artist how the tattoo healed

**bet:** easy enough

**harls:** oh my god

**harls:** okay fine

**harls:** that explains betty’s reason for being there

**mj:** im queer and theres two single people there that are attractive  _ and _ nice

**mj:** im shooting my shot

**harls:** valid 

**bet:** g e t i t 

* * *

Harley had never spent too much time looking at the tattoo shop before. He’d walked past it more times than he could count, but never wanted to linger too long. There were plants in the windows, tons of green contrasting the dull grey and the yellow lights of the New York evening. There was a rainbow flag proudly displayed in the window as well, showing the LGBTQIA+ community that they accepted them. There wasn’t much that showed it was a tattoo shop unless you knew it was. From outside, it looked like it could be a cafe or a boutique. Only the sign revealed it was a tattoo shop, a little wooden sign with a tattoo needle. 

MJ nudged his arm and Harley sighed. 

He pulled open the door and a little bell sounded. The lobby was separate from where the artists must beーwhere Peter must beーa wall of plants keeping the areas isolated. There was a wooden stand for reception and a seating area. It was just as cozy as Harley expected it to be. All soft colors, plants, wooden furniture, and even indie music playing over the speakers. This shop had taken any assumptions about how tattoo shops should be and had thrown them out the window. 

Betty and MJ stood at his side, Betty most comfortable of the three of them. They’d been here before, Harley reasoned, they knew what to expect. 

“Hiya,” a girl appeared from behind the wall of plants. Her hair was blonde, shaved on one side, and her eyebrow was pierced. Pink Doc Martens adorned her feet and she was wearing a tank top, exposing a line of flowers under her collarbones. “What can I help you with? Oh, Betty! Hi! How’s the ink?”

Harley heard some shuffling in the back.

“Gwen,” Betty grinned and Gwen smiled back. “It’s great, healing amazingly.” They shrugged off their jacket, showing their arm to Gwen, who stepped closer and whistled. 

“Dang, Harry really went off on this one.”

“I love it.”

“So,” Gwen acknowledged Harley and MJ this time, her eyes lingering on MJ. “What brings you all here?”

“Gwen? Did we hear you say Betty?” Harley heard a voice before he saw who it belonged to and holy shit, Betty was right about Harry being pretty. Again, assumptions thrown out the window. Harry was pretty, like model pretty, wearing a short sleeved button up and Harley spotted a lily tattoo on his forearm.

“Harry!” Betty gave him a hug. “Thank you so much, I love it so much.” 

“I’m glad!” Harry smiled. “It’s healing alright?”

Betty nodded and the reference boy appeared from the plants. Harley’s breath caught in his throat. In the back of his mind, he had begun to believe that the reference boy and the Peter Betty described were not the same, but here was the reference boy. 

Peter was wearing his Doc Martens, paired with skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt, revealing his arms. And holy shit, his arms. He was muscular, but his right arm was completely covered in color, a sleeve of tattoos that had been covered when Harley had seen him. He had a few tattoos on his other arm too, just not as cohesive as the sleeve. Chestnut curls that looked just as soft as Harley remembered, paired with chocolate-colored eyes that were staring at him in shock. “Florist boy!”

Well, it wasn’t the worst thing Harley had been called.

“Harley,” he supplied, holding out his hand. “My name’s Harley Keener. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Peter Parker, likewise,” Peter smiled bashfully, shaking Harley’s hand. “I swear, I was going to go back to your shop and get your name and your number, but we’ve been so busy.”

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’. We’ve met now.”

“And I’m MJ,” MJ said. “Now that we’ve all met, how do you all feel about joining us for dinner?”

Peter immediately nodded, as did Gwen, while Harry rolled his eyes at his co-workers enthusiasm about getting food. “Yeah, that’d be great. Just let us grab our stuff? You’re welcome to come back.”

“Did Miles go home already?” Betty asked.

“Yeah, we’ve had a busy couple of days, so we sent him home early to rest,” Gwen replied.

While the front was filled with plants, the back was a little less over-run with greenery. Gwen’s station had a bean bag next to it. A lesbian flag was hung on the wall, next to some amazing artwork. Harry’s station had an aromantic flag, just as Betty had mentioned, a fern in the corner, and a shelf of sketchbooks. Peter had a mint plant on a table between his and Harry’s stations, and a bisexual flag draped over a cabinet. There were a couple floor-length mirrors around, along with more artwork, ranging from paintings on canvases to pages from sketchbooks on the walls. 

While Harley was observing the room, Peter had grabbed his denim jacket and shrugged it on. Gwen threw a hoodie over her head and shook out her hair, standing beside MJ and pointing out some of the pieces on the wall. Harry put on a bomber jacket and grabbed Peter’s hand before it swung too close to the mint plant. Releasing it when Peter nodded at him.

“So, where were you thinking for a meal?” Peter asked. “‘Cause I’m starving.”

* * *

“Prettiest in the group, go.”

“Harry.”

“Har bear.”

“Harry.”

Harry’s responding smile and laugh just proved their point. 

Harley’s hand was running through Peter’s hair softly, almost lulling him to sleep. Peter caught glimpses of the rose on his forearm with every movement. Betty was attempting to braid Harry’s hair, complaining that it was too soft to hold. MJ and Gwen were quietly sketching each other, sitting cross-legged across from each other. He could hear Miles and Abbie chatting in the other room, gossiping about...something.

“I’m really glad that you guys decided on a crocus for Betty’s tattoo,” Harley commented softly, so they wouldn’t be heard over the music. 

“I am too,” Peter looked up at him. They’d clicked in a way that Peter had never expected, that first night they actually knew each other by name. Amongst MJ and Gwen flirting, Harry rolling his eyes at the two pining couples, and Betty’s rant about their editor screwing up, Peter had fallen into the sea held in Harley’s eyes. From that night, it had become a group chat of six people, then to eight people as Peter met Abbie and Miles eventually became a full time artist at the shop. It became picnic dates with Harley in Central Park under the dark sky since they could never meet for lunch dates. It became arcade dates, where they competed at every single game to make sure they could buy each other the cutest prizes with their tickets. It became peaceful nights at the Keener apartment, like tonight, where they were all together. They didn’t have to live up to assumptions, they never did. With each other, they could just  _ be _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> Some info on the flowers/plants Betty got tattooed:  
> The crocus is a common symbol of an impending spring, since they usually begin to bloom as the last winter frost passes. Thus, as a tattoo, the crocus flower radiates cheerfulness, gladness, youthfulness, and glee. This flower as a tattoo will have an uplifting and cheerful affect on your body's canvas.
> 
> The flax plant is a great accent for filler, or for a tattoo on its own. Typically the flax plant is seen as a symbol of domesticity, making it a lovely gesture of love, or finding peace within yourself.  
> Information Source:  
> https://www.inkedmag.com/original-news/a-z-guide-to-flower-tattoo-meanings-and-symbolism
> 
> oof yall, this one took me a bit and im not completely happy with it, but here it is
> 
> thanks yall for reading!!!!!! i love and appreciate you all
> 
> feel free to join the parkner discord!! https://discord.gg/nDyCx6p


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